


return to shamballa

by cookiethewriter



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Multi, Post-CoS, Post-Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa, aw shit here we go again, i am REWRITING THIS from the GROUND UP, will tag as we go along ya weebs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 11:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20470295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiethewriter/pseuds/cookiethewriter
Summary: post-conqueror of shamballa. the brothers elric travel back to munich six years later, if only just to recover some of hohenheim's lost journals. but it's never 'just' anything for the elrics, is it?(updates ???)





	return to shamballa

**Author's Note:**

> it's been ... 84 years ... but here i am, back into fullmetal alchemist, like the super-secret weeb i've always been. not only back on my fma(2003 of course) bullshit, but this is a COMPLETELY rewritten version of a fic i wrote over on ffnet of the same name. 
> 
> come with me on this journey, because it's something i've been wanting to do for a while but lacked the muse and motivation, and here i am with both! buckle up, bitches, we're going ficcing!

People dressed in colorful draping clothes danced, spun, around a crackling fire, the only light source for the small Roma encampment. Someone strumming a guitar nearby added the perfect accompaniment to the pat-patting of feet and brushing of grass, and somehow, it maintains to be one of the most calming atmospheres Edward Elric had felt in a long time. 

Four years had never felt like a long time back when the brothers Elric were running around Amestris trying to find a way to bring their bodies back to their normal forms. But six years in a world that never felt like theirs - like …  _ his _ \- was a hell of a lot longer. It was …  _ torture _ . Six years of tracking Huskisson and that uranium bomb, of investigating leads on how to possibly close the permanent gate that Eckhart had made on this side, and disappointment after both ended up being wild goose chases of different degrees. 

He wasn’t sure how many times he’d uttered the name ‘Hohenheim’ just to get people to listen. And after all this time, the name had lost its bitter taste in the back of his throat. ‘Dad’ was easier to say and heavier on his heart, and Edward had always been a sucker for weighing himself down with painful rhetoric. 

There’s a soft snore coming from somewhere below him, and he looks down after having jumped from the sudden sound to see a mess of dirty blond against his hip; he had stopped being so disbelieving that he was here,  _ Alphonse _ , his baby brother was here in the flesh and bone. His cheek was currently smushed against his side, looking neither comfortable nor in any rush to change position, so Ed let him stay there, watched him catch up on the rest he’d been refusing his body the last couple years as he got used to being drifters again.

From this angle, he can’t really see much of Al’s face, but he can see the wrinkles by his brows from scrunching them up, and he wonders. Wonders what he’s dreaming about, what could be causing him to look so uncomfortable, so pained, and Ed saddens a little. He can only imagine, considering what the last few years, and more than that, the last  _ decade _ had been like for his brother, first only a soul in an empty suit of armor then a boy whose memories and experiences were lost to the gate. It must have been hard, then, living two whole years in darkness only to have those years returned to him, but now in a brand new world, where new faces looked like old faces. 

He can’t figure out if the expression on Al’s face is pain, anger, sadness … maybe something else, but his face completely relaxes again, soft and peaceful, and Ed breathes out and watches it fan out in front of him as he glances back at the dancing figures. 

They had never meant to travel with this Roma tribe when they managed to bump paths two years ago. They were directionless, Al barking about ‘planning things out better’ and things having ‘not changed’, and no amount of nose-pinching or ear-pulling could disprove what his younger brother said. A familiar face, Noah, convinced the brothers Elric to travel with them until they came up with a plan, and although Ed was hesitant, Al agreed for them both. 

So, here they were. 

The sound of Al stirring brings him back out of his head, and he looks down again. Before he has long to contemplate if he should wake him up before his neck gets stiff, he hears footsteps coming toward him, and his head lifts back up to look at them. Noah. “Hey, Noah.” 

“Edward…” her voice was always so quiet, almost whispering, but it was almost quieter now under the guitar and laughter in the air. “Why are you two over here? Don’t you want to dance?” 

“Sorry, I don’t really dance. Plus, Al and I should be hitting the sack.” Looking over at Al, who was rubbing his eyes, he tries to fight the grin on his face at the imprint left on his cheek from the fabric of his pants. He wasn’t sure if he was as tired as his brother, but he could feel it was late, and the caravan usually moves early in the morning. They might have let them travel with them, but they wouldn’t wait for Ed if he slept in. He wouldn’t blame them. “Maybe another time?” 

Noah gave him this look, something a little disappointed, before she started to turn away. She coyly looks over her shoulder, at somewhere just shorter than him, before she looks back at him, half-turning her body. “You’ve got something on your mind, right? But you never tell me things like that.” Walking over, she suddenly puts her hand on his cheek, and he feels his face heat up for about a hundred different reasons. She pulled her hand back, and he narrowed his eyes at her, looking for all the world like she’d just betrayed his trust. 

“Yeah, so you decide to see for yourself, right? See anything interesting?” 

“Even after all this time, you still feel like you have no home here. Detached, but also not.” She kept her voice low, not that she needs to. Even on a good day, she’s still easily the quietest person he’d ever met, and he knew a ma-- a  _ chimera _ , who whispered. He looks at his hands, hanging off his knees now at the elbow, shoulders slouched as he listens. “Like you’re holding yourself back from grasping what it is you really want.” 

He jolts at that last part. A full body reaction like he’s been shoved and he looks back up at her, his left hand reaching to grab at his right bicep, squeezing the cool metal of his automail. “Stop peeking inside me, Noah.” 

A hurt look crosses her face then, like he had shoved her right back, before she nods her head in a quiet apology and turns fully to go back to where she’d been, children pulling her along for a dance. He stands up then, Al not too far behind him, before he hears his brother say beside him sleepily, “That was rude, brother.” 

“Easy for you to say, Al,” Ed says, pointed but not sharp. Never sharp towards Alphonse. “She doesn’t do that to you.” 

“That’s because I talk to her. It’s not hard to let people in, brother. Friends are good for that sort of thing.” 

Ed doesn’t say anything to that. It’s not that he considered Noah as  _ nothing _ , but she’d betrayed his trust before. If she hadn’t peeked into his mind while he was sleeping all those years ago, Eckhart wouldn’t have known how to activate the transmutation circle, and… there was a lot of stuff there still, distrust but not hatred. He didn’t dislike her at all. 

“Again, easy for you to say. You were always better at making friends than I ever was.” 

“That’s because you bit their head off.” He says it in a laugh, at least, and Ed rolls his eyes at the plethora of memories that jump behind his eyes: Willie from down the road would tease Al a lot, calling him a  _ mama’s boy _ and a  _ baby _ and Ed would be the first to come to Al’s defense. (Winry was always the second, right behind him.) As he moves the entrance flap of their tent up to let Al in first, he opens his mouth to say something, and almost trips on his way in when Al says, eyes trained directly to Ed’s, “Even Winry sometimes.” 

_ Yeah. Right up until the end… _

“ _ Tell her thanks. She always made the best. _ ” 

She never did get to know how he felt. He lifts his right arm up and rolls the sleeve up enough to see his open palm and he tests it, a slight frown on his face; not that he would ever allow the words to be expressed out loud, but he missed her terribly. Winry deserved to know what she meant to him, and deserved to hear it  _ from him _ , but like every other time before, obstacles got in the way, obligations bigger than themselves took precedence. And, now she wouldn’t know. 

When the brothers Elric get inside the tent, it doesn’t take long for it to be filled with Al’s quiet snores. Ed stays awake, eyes trained to the ceiling; they  _ do _ need to wake up early tomorrow to leave with the rest of the tribe, and they’ll be sticking with them for a little while longer, but Ed’s keeping something from Al, knows what their next move is for the time being. Something he’s been putting off for a while, quite a few years, because he couldn’t bring himself to detach from the guilt that clung to his bangs and the edges of his heart like chains. 

Where it all started, six years ago. 

Munich. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm cookiethewriter on tumblr! come talk to me!


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